Evenings
by S.Walden
Summary: Drabbles concerning my headcanon. Span the entirety of Yamato's life in no particular order. **Chpt 3 Up** Where Yamato got his harmonica from.
1. Chapter 1: Christmas

Evenings

Chapter One: Christmas

Sora sighed, "Do you always fight with your brother like that?"

"He's my brother... what am I supposed to do?" Yamato sighed.

"True," Sora giggled. "You're an interesting drunk, you know?"

"I've never drank before," the blonde admitted. "Well, unless you count me wanting to get wasted from my father's stash and chickening out last minute. Stuff tasted horrible as a kid, but now, it's kinda weird. I don't mind."

"I only drink occasionally," the redhead replied, "My Mom would kill me if she knew..."

"Well, we are only on the tail end of middle school, not exactly of legal age or anything," Yamato laughed. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"To sleep this mess off," Sora replied, "I doubt you want your father seeing you like this and I can't take you back to my Mom's. When I brought up Takeru's a second ago, you nearly decked me."

_If I showed up like this at Mom's... I bet she would take the chance. Like you are now, Sora. What am I doing here? I'd rather face my Dad than do this, but I can't move. My mind's too clouded. What have I done?_

* * *

><p>"Here we go," Sora announced. The room was huge with an equally as huge bed in the center. There was a dresser, a TV, a bathroom, and a walk in closet. Two nightstands. Everything was pink with hearts, like a Valentine's decoration exploded.<p>

"A love hotel," Yamato whispered.

"Yeah, well, it was closest," she said. Then Sora laughed. The alcohol was getting to her, too. "Um, actually, since it's Christmas Eve and all... I had this prebooked. I was hoping we would finally take this a little further."

"What?"

"We've been dating a year, Yamato. A year is a long time to barely even make out with the one you love," Sora said.

_I don't like women_, he reminded himself. As he sat down on the bed, he felt Sora push him down. Immediately fear overtook him, like a bad omen. _I'm too weak to stop this. _

"Yamato, is it okay?" / "Yamato, everything will be okay."

_Mom...? No, this is Sora. Sora. Your friend._

"Yamato?" Sora asked, brushing back blonde locks. "I asked if this is okay."

_I don't have a choice. You'll do this anyway. You always do._ "Yeah... whatever..."

With that Sora kissed him and wrapped her arms around him. She slowly climbed on top of him. "I'm glad we can finally do this." / "We're finally alone." She slowly began to unbutton his shirt and then pulled back either side to run her hands over his chest. She kissed him again and snaked her hand lower. When she giggled through his lips, he could only hear his mother's gasps.

He grabbed her arms and pushed her away. She managed to stay on top of him. "What's the matter?" she demanded. / "Don't make Natsu, angry."

Yamato closed his eyes, "Sorry."

Sora shrugged it off and kissed along his neck, still teasing him lower. After she had enough of that, she removed her shirt, then her bra. "Do I look nice?" / "Is Mommy beautiful?"

The blonde shook his head slightly. Sora took this as a yes and kissed him again, before pressing her chest against his.

Yamato threw Sora from him but she wouldn't falter and held him down. She wasn't stronger than him, but his mind said he wasn't and so when he lifted his arms, it only came out as a desperate struggle. Sora giggled at him, but he could only hear his mother's laugh. That kind of laugh when you say something stupid or do something cute.

"You feel wonderful, Yamato," she said, "I like it when you're like this."

"Get off me," he hissed.

Sora obliged, wondering what he was up to now. He shoved her down, holding his hands around her neck, "How does it feel when this happens to you?" he cried, tears falling onto Sora's face. She scratched at his wrists and managed to pry him off of her. He sat on the other side of the bed, staring down at his bleeding arms.

"Yama...?"

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

"Yamato, what's wrong with you?" she demanded.

"What's wrong with you?" he retorted, grabbing her wrist. She couldn't make him let go, even when she tugged at his hand. "Why are you doing this?"

"This is what we wanted." / "This is what you wanted."

"I never asked you for this," he breathed, "I hate you." He grabbed her other hand in his and Sora saw that she was in danger this time and kicked him over the edge of the bed. He dragged her down with him and they fought on the floor until Sora was crying.

"Yamato, it's me, Sora! Why are you doing this?"

"S-Sora," he whispered and backed away. The name was sobering to him and he looked at the blood smeared across his arms and the tears on Sora's face. He backed away until he hit a corner. "Sora, I'm sorry."

"What's wrong with you?" she screamed, clutching the sheets to her body. "What did I ever do to you?"

"N-Nothing..." he replied, tears flowing silently from his eyes. "Sora, I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough. Yamato, you attacked me."

"I... I didn't mean to..." he replied, still dazed. He stood, adjusted his clothes, and found his wallet and keys, then headed for the door. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sora could only cry. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand anything. There was no reason for him to act like this. She leaned back against the bed for a moment, before she could feel his skin crawling under her nails and took a shower. She stayed the rest of the night, trying to wash whatever it was that had scared him from her body.

Yamato wasn't too far from home and when he tried to use the key and failed, he began banging loudly. His father rushed to the front door and opened it. His son seemed out of it and there were cuts on his arms, a bruise on his face. "Y-Yamato," Hiroaki whispered.

"I need to lay down," the blonde stated, then went over to the couch.

"Are you alright? You're bleeding," he insisted.

"Fine," Yamato replied.

Hiroaki went and got some medicine. The tiny cuts were too numerous to bother with band aids. "What happened?"

"...nothing."

"Something happened."

"Nothing, damn it!" he screamed, burying his face into his knees and wrapping himself in his arms, shooing his father away as he tended the wounds.

"You were drinking," his father reminded. "You probably don't remember. Whatever it is, we'll talk about it tomorrow." Hiroaki set the medicine aside and ran a hand through his hair. He laid his son down and gathered a quilt from the closet, tucking it over him. "Get some rest."

"I can't... sleep... can't stay awake... no matter what I do... I see her..." Yamato whispered all this admist tears and exhaustion and his father didn't understand. All he could do was stay with the boy and brush back his hair until he did finally pass out, much like he did when he was a kid. All Hiroaki could see until now was his little boy, but in that moment he realized things were changing.


	2. Chapter 2: Graduation

Evenings

Chapter Two: Graduation

Yamato had just downed half another glass of champagne, his third for the night, when he finally lost sight of Jyou. He had his hair extra long this year- probably because he had been studying like a maniac at college and avoided it. Yamato noticed he wore a blue sweater- the entire school had them. No one really knew, but Yamato had given it to him, sort of out of nowhere for the other's birthday. Ever since the Digital World, the blonde knew. That was the man for him. However, in the five years since their original adventures, they had grown a part quite a bit. Yamato saw Taichi sometimes, but usually just to cheer him on at soccer. Sometimes they ended up seeing each other because of Takeru and Hikari, but they were older now and didn't need their big brothers constantly over their shoulders. Koushiro had always been a bit awakard of a friend, but Yamato didn't mind. They talked on the internet sometimes and Koushiro and Jyou were probably the only two reasons he was even able to flip the sash on his grad hat at all. Mimi was still away in America, but due back next year, hopefully. He talked to her sometimes, mostly about the entertainment world since it was the one thing they truly shared. Takeru was off living his own life now, so Yamato's relationship with him was distant, but not nonexistent. Like always. That just left Jyou, the object of his unrequeted affections, and Sora, one of his best friends in all the world, who, somehow, he ended up dating for the last year. Yamato supposed that the entertainment world would destroy him if they knew he was actually homosexual, but that didn't even matter to Yamato, really. He had every intention of telling Jyou his true feelings and breaking up with Sora, especially because she was pushing him to move their relationship further.

"Does your mother want this?" he had asked her earlier.

"Well, we have been dating awhile. We just got out of high school and she really wants me to settle down."

"Like any _woman_," Yamato remarked.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to live the life I've been given? I'm blessed to have a mother that loves and cares about me-"

"She changed you, Sora," the blonde interjected. "You're nothing like the friend I remember... I just can't."

"...I see how it is," she said, staring at her shoes. "But we're still going to the party right?"

"Of course," Yamato whispered, holding a hand to her cheek. "Sora, don't cry. I didn't mean to say all that. It's just... times change, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do."

Yamato took the rest of the champagne in and set down the glass somewhere. He didn't want to have to face Sora and tell her that she wasn't the one he loved. He would rather die than break her heart, but he couldn't do that either.

"Yamato."

The blonde turned. His family was standing there. He had seen them _all_ at the ceremony, but was hoping they had just gone home. It was a strange sight. Sometimes, when they were proud enough, his parents would hold hands. "Hey," he breathed.

"Congradulations," Takeru said, giving his brother a hug.

"There was awhile there I wasn't sure which road you were going to take Yamato," Hiroaki replied. "I'm so proud of you."

"You graduated with honors," Natsuko whispered. "I'm so happy."

He glared at her. "No one invited you," he snapped.

"Yamato!" Takeru barked.

Natsuko looked away from him. She was whispering to their father.

"Whatever you have to say, tell me," Yamato ordered, taking another glass from the table. He nearly dropped it and set it down again, balancing his body against the table with both hands. "Just tell me."

"I hate seeing you like this because of me," she whispered.

Takeru watched the two talk. He knew something had happened before he was old enough to remember, something he didn't understand. Whenever he asked someone about it, his entire family just kept him in the dark. He was treated like a child, even now, and wasn't sure why. He had even taken it upon himself to snoop around, but it seemed nothing was apparent except his mother's love for Yamato and the son's undying hatred for Natsuko. "Don't fight, please."

"If you hate seeing me this way..." Yamato wanted to just say everything then and there, but instead he just laughed.

"Takeru, take care of your brother. I'm going to take Natsuko home."

Takeru wanted to cry as he nodded and watched his parents leave. He turned to his brother, who was still hunched over the table. His classmates passed him with confused or equally as drunk looks. "Damn it, Yamato," Takeru said, grabbing his brother by the collar of his shirt. He looked ridiculous. He didn't even have his gown on over his clothes anymore. God only knows where he had tossed it, but the hat was still on his head until that moment, now somewhere under the table where it had rolled. "Why do you always do this to her?"

Yamato didn't look his brother in the eyes.

"Answer me!" Takeru demanded.

"You wouldn't... understand," Yamato managed, shrugging his brother away from him. "Just forget it."

Takeru shook his head, "How can I just forget it like you always tell me when you apparenly never will?"

"Because it didn't happen to you," Yamato remarked, taking the glass he had started to earlier. "Beesides..." the man slurred, "You don't even know what's going on with me."

"Well, you certainly never tell anyone," Takeru retorted. "I'm standing here, trying to help you and you're just drowning." The sibling walked over to the other and hugged him. This time, Yamato didn't pull away. He fell onto his brother as if he would pass out. "Oh," Takeru breathed, "Okay, let's... let's go get you to the restroom before you throw up all over the convention floor."

Yamato giggled at the statement as his brother lead him through the crowd.

"Hey, is he okay?" Taichi laughed.

"You know how he is," Takeru sighed.

Sora followed the brothers' trek across the remainder of the hall. Taichi noticed her worried expression, "He just had too much fun, Sora."

"...yeah," she replied.

In the bathroom, Yamato just slumped down on the floor for a bit, trying to keep what little of his mind was left about him. Takeru paced a second, his anger and embarassment only growing worse. "You know... you haven't spoken to Mom in four years."

"I don't... I don't... care."

"You know she's not on the SSRI's anymore?" Takeru said, kneeling down to his brother's level. "She's taking stronger, more dangerous antidepressants because of you."

"Good, she fuckin' deserves it," Yamato whispered.

Takeru grabbed his brother by the throat, "Why do you hate her **so** much?" Yamato smiled at him, despite the gasps for air trying to get through. Then, the door opened behind them and Takeru let go. "There is something seriously wrong with you," Takeru breathed. "I'm done. I hope you don't die on the way home, if that matters to you, either."

The blonde gently raised his hand to his neck as he caught his breath. Then, he saw that someone had come in, but he really couldn't make it out. He/She looked around nervously. "I don't usually wander into men's restrooms," he/she whispered, "Um, Takeru looked really angry with you. Seems like I got here just in time."

As the person helped Yamato to his feet again, the blonde fell into his/her arms. "Thank you..." he said. He could just make out the blue jacket and the shoulder length hair. _Jyou..._ "You noticed me."

"Of course I did," Sora replied. "Come on, let's go get some fresh air for you. I can't stand these people."

"Jyou..." he whispered.

Sora shook her head. _What does this have to do with him? _"This is just like last time, huh?"

"Last time... no, not really..." Yamato whispered. "I don't think Egghead had any booze in that shitty boiler room."

"Yamato?" Sora questioned. "No, you remember. The Christmas party? You and Takeru fought then, too, and you ended up like this. We even..."

"Takeru needs to mind... business..."

"Yamato, how about we sleep this off, huh?" Sora asked cheerfully, leading the blonde to her car.

"Yeah, sleep... like that will help... I don't dream. I don't dream, ever."

"What's that?"

"Nightmares, all the time... I went to a shrink once..." Yamato chuckled after that. "Everyone's so fucking blind. You don't even remember... how much I love you... do you?"

Sora held her breath as she laid him down in the back seat. She had contemplated taking him back to her apartment, but no. He was going to be too out of it soon, anyway. What would she say when he woke up? But her mother's words rang in her ears. She crawled in with him, more for her own comfort than to go through with whatever insane plan the alcohol and her own problems had wanted her to go through with, and just snuggled into him. "You love me?" she whispered, knowing he had been referring to Jyou.

"More than anything," he whispered.

"I'm glad," she replied, kissing him on the cheek.


	3. Chapter 3: Sunset

Evenings

Chapter 3

[sunset]

A/N: I replaced the previous entry here, but it's not going to be deleted. I just wanted to expand it / reupload that snippet. Anyway, enjoy how Yamato got his harmonica in my headcanon. :)

* * *

><p>"So, the boys are how old now?" asked Michel Takaishi as he set down his luggage in the guest room. The man batted away stray locks of blonde hair as he turned to face his son-in-law.<p>

"Let's see... Yamato's just turned six. Takeru is three."

"I'm glad I could finally get an excuse through work to write an article here and come see them."

"Mm," Hiroaki agreed.

The two men were being tolerable of one another, although to everyone else, especially the watchful eyes of children, they seemed like good friends.

"Let me know if you need anything," the father said, then left the room. He never liked being around Natsuko's father. He had never approved of him, despite Natsuko's insistence to convince her husband otherwise.

When he returned to the living room, Hiroaki let out a sigh. His wife was lying on the couch with another migraine. How many had that made this week? This month? The entire thing had to be an act or she would have gone to the hospital by now. "Head hurts, does it?" he whispered, walking behind the couch and towards the kitchen. The boys trailed behind him and as Takeru stumbled, Yamato helped him with his balance.

Hiroaki stopped at where the carpet became tile, "You two stay in here. I don't want you getting hurt."

Yamato nodded and held Takeru back gently as the toddler whined to follow his father.

"How is he?" Natsuko called.

"He's settling in," her partner replied, taking a beer from the fridge. "Was it really necessary to let him stay here?"

"Where else would you have him stay, Hiro?" Natsuko whined. "It's just for a few days and he hasn't seen the kids since they were born... is that really fair?"

Hiroaki returned to the living room. "No, I guess it isn't. I don't mind him visiting, Nat, but staying with us? You know he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Natsuko pressed, rubbing her temples. "I think I need to go lie down."

"I'm taking you to the doctor next week. This is ridiculous."

"I hate hospitals. I hate doctors."

"We're aware of that. I had to fight you to take the kids in for their appointments. Last time I took them myself."

"Hiro..."

"What, Natsuko?" the father snapped. He didn't notice his children jump at the raise of his voice.

Yamato lured Takeru into the next room to play. The living room opened up with two huge swinging doors into a large sitting room. Beyond that was a balcony and the light was pouring in from the early morning sun. Takeru made a whining noise and Yamato had just about had it up to here with his little brother that day. "What?" he demanded. "What is it?"

"Oniichan."

Yamato sighed, slumping to the floor as his brother proceeded to 'waller' him, which was something akin to mountain climbing. For a moment Yamato cursed his own name and began to whine himself, "Takeru... get off me."

"Play with me."

"No."

"Play!" Takeru demanded, throwing his fist at Yamato's shoulder. The older brother wriggled Takeru from him and checked the sore spot.

"You're hurting my bruise," the older brother warned. He then pulled away from his sibling entirely and stared across the room as the sun danced on the floor.

"You have a boo-boo," Takeru said curiously and poked Yamato. He seethed at the touch and glared at his sibling, who didn't know any better.

"Yeah, so don't touch me," Yamato demanded and shrugged away again. Takeru flopped next to him and stared at his brother's stoic stare.

"Play!" Takeru demanded.

"No."

Meanwhile, Natsuko had retired to her room and Hiroaki was enjoying his time off the best he could with an ill wife, an annoying father-in-law, and two young children making racket in the room over. Soon, Michel joined him in the large armchair. They could barely see the two children arguing, but it made them both smile. "How is he doing?"

"Which?" Hiroaki suggested.

"Little Yamato. I heard he had quite the incident at school last week."

"Oh, that..." Hiroaki laughed a little. "He was just being overprotective. He's a strange kid; treats Takeru like the biggest bother, but goes out of his way to make sure he's safe. I don't get it."

"He's just trying to be a good older brother," Michel explained as if he knew all of God's knowledge. He had His pride as well. "Still, I'm surprised the parents didn't sue you for what little you have."

And there it was, Hiroaki thought. The insults start pouring in. He had learned to shrug them off, but this was more about Hiroaki's ability as a father than a man and that was what was making anger burn in his stomach. "The brat probably deserved it," Hiroaki defended. "I'm proud of Yamato."

"I doubt Natsuko approved of that," Michel retorted.

"She _didn't_, not that she has had much time to pay attention lately."

"Oh? Those dizzy spells?"

"Head-aches, too. I'm taking her to the doctor next week. I can't raise two kids on my own."

Michel snorted, "She's been doing it for the last three years, Hiro."

The father cringed at his wife's nickname for him being squeezed between the lips of this jackass. "I'm worried about Natsuko, aren't you?"

"Deeply, but she's headstrong..."

"Well, she needs to be put in her place," Hiroaki breathed without thinking. He had never heard himself sound so sexist, but the work, the sleep deprevation, _other_ depravations, were getting to him. "What I mean is, she needs to do what's best for her and the rest of us."

Michel didn't say anything more. Instead, he held a small harmonica in his hand. "You play?" he questioned.

Hiroaki nodded. "Not harmonica. You know I play bass, though. I know a little piano, too."

"This is a fine instrument," Michel said, waving the metal block in the air a little. Then he pulled another item from his bag. A vintage set of wooden blocks with the English alphabet on them. "This is for Takeru."

"They're nice gifts. But I wouldn't trust hierlooms to children."

"Natsuko's mother would want the kids to have them," Michel retorted. He took the items with him to the next room and Hiroaki watched carefully as the grandfather knealt down, seperating the two bickering children. They immediately stopped at the face of this strange man. Niether had any memory of the first time they met, but they knew that this broad shouldered, blue-eyed foreigner was important to their mother and he was being nice. He handed them the gifts. Yamato held the metal object awkwardly in his tiny hands. Takeru immediately spilled the blocks all over the playmat and began throwing them at one another. One hit Yamato in the leg, but he held back a cringe of pain.

"Yamato, this is a harmonica. I've had it for awhile now, but I would like you to have it."

"...why?" the tiny blonde wondered, staring at his reflection in the metal.

"Because, it will bring you good luck and who knows, maybe you'll be famous one day."

"Sounds dumb," Yamato admitted, stuffing the instrument in his pocket, but Michel reached for it. Yamato pulled away quickly with deadpan fear, but his grandfather grabbed the instrument anyway.

"It's okay," Michel whispered, puzzled by the kid's reaction. He took it as to them still being strangers and held the instrument to his lips. He arched it and showed Yamato how to hold his hands. "See? You try."

"No, I don't want to."

"Oh, well..." Michel chuckled, putting the gift back in Yamato's hand, "When you're ready then. At least Takeru is enjoying his gift from Grandpa Michel."

Yamato glared at his younger brother who was making loud noises and oo's as he built up the blocks and sent them crashing down again. Yamato then folded his arms. Takeru... always loved more than him. He wasn't punished... He wasn't 'special'... Yamato kicked the blocks prematurely and Takeru's eyes welled up and he began to cry. Immediately Yamato felt horrible and apologized, desperately trying to restack them.

"It's alright, Takeru," Michel said, patting the boy on the head. "See? Big brother Yamato is here to fix everything."

Yamato's blue eyes found their match in his grandfather's a moment before the tall man stood again, like the skyscrapers Takeru had only imagined, and then went back to the living room. Yamato shifted awkwardly on the floor and looked at Takeru, who was leaning far over to find a block.

"Let me... Let me get it," Yamato sighed and then went over and grabbed the wooden toy before handing it back. "Here you go."


End file.
